These Walls Will Speak
by monsterinourheads
Summary: Lena is outraged when the Pevensies arrive in Narnia, and even more so when she's told to teach them the art of war. But mysteries and secrets unfold as she learns more about the Pevensies, and they about her. Things aren't as they seem, especially in Narnia. This emotional and shocking story will hold the reader's attention until the very last page.
1. Chapter 1

I sat on the cliff overlooking the ocean and waited. For what, exactly, I don't know. They wouldn't be here for hours, at least, it was a good couple days journey here from the Beavers' home, and we had heard about the Witch's near-attack on the Pevensie's shortly before Father Christmas arrived.

The pounding of the waves against the shore was relaxing, and I found my eyelids growing heavy. It had been days since anything interesting had happened, and even then the only interesting things were bad things: attacks from the wolves, the withdrawal of my family and friends from Aslan's army, the news that one of the Pevensie's was a traitor. I sighed. Maybe I deserved the rest.

But even as I thought that, I heard shouts from the camp. All the way up here I could only understand bits of conversation.

"…here!"

"…welcome them, come on!"

"…Lena?"

I got up as soon as I heard my name and started to run down the path back to the camp. _They can't be here yet, they can't be here yet, please don't let them be here yet _was the silent mantra I spoke to myself on the way down. But, of course, it did nothing. They were here. I crossed behind them and slunk up to stand at the rise that looked over the camp. Then I simply watched.

The Beavers were in front, and I knew them well. They were nice, though Mrs. Beaver was a bit fussy. Then came the three Pevensies. I didn't know their names—perhaps if I had bothered to listen better, I would've. One, who seemed to be the oldest, had golden hair and odd clothes on, likely ones from his home. Pairing those clothes with the sword that he managed to make look awkward, and you had a very strange-looking boy, indeed. The next one I saw was a girl, with long dark hair and a dress. She had a bow and arrow slung across her back, along with a horn. I shook my head in disgust. Why give such gifts to those that don't even know how to use them? The last one was a child, far too young to be carrying the dagger she had strapped to her side. Her dress was blue and flowered, and I wondered again at the fashions of their home.

The Beavers, at least, seemed to be enjoying the attention they were given. The Pevensies, however, looked nervous and excited at the same time. I stood and watched as the procession stopped. The murmurs and whispers stopped suddenly as Aslan stepped out of his tent, and I wished I could see the Pevensie's reactions from where I was. They had probably thought he'd be human.

I couldn't hear what was being said, but eventually the crowds began to disperse. The Beavers moved towards one of the tents—"not that one, dear," I could hear Mrs. Beaver say—and the Pevensies wandered aimlessly around, greeting people and learning more about the camp, doubtless.

"I want you to teach them how to use their weapons."

I hadn't heard him come up behind me, but he was a cat, after all. Albeit a very large and deadly one. I turned. "Sorry?"

He repeated himself. "I want you to teach them. They know nothing of swords or arrows and they'll need to know soon. You're the only other human at this camp, it'd be best if they learnt from you." His golden eyes seemed to look through me, not at me.

I suppressed a sigh. "Of course," I muttered. "I'll teach them. But I can't promise I'll be nice about it."

He chuckled, and I was surprised, as always, at his humor. "I thought that was going to be a bit much to ask." He seemed to smile at me, then, and I returned the favor. He then walked down the slope and disappeared inside his tent.

I sighed, then, and looked back at the Pevensies. The little one was looking up at me, and she waved. I did not wave back.

I was not looking forward to this.


	2. Chapter 2

Nighttime came quickly, and I was relieved. I had spent the rest of the day worrying and mulling over Aslan's instructions. Simple instructions, yes, but at the same time, difficult. A party had been sent out earlier to go to try and rescue the fourth Pevensie (I'd learned their names, by now, from the others. This one was Edmund.) I had wanted to go but it was thought that I should stay and try to speak with the Pevensies and get to know them better. I sighed.

They were sitting around a fire, now, and there didn't seem to be much conversation going on. The little one—_Lucy_, I told myself—was leaning on her brother's shoulder, eyes closed. I wondered if she was asleep. The other two were staring rather dejectedly into the flames. They were all still in their odd clothes and I hoped they would be able to get some new ones soon. They would be killed in an instant in clothing like that. I sighed again. I was stalling, over here, thinking like an idiot about clothing. I had to go speak to them either way. I squared my shoulders and walked over to the fire, and Susan looked up at me as I approached. My steps faltered, and she said nothing.

"Hello," I tried to say it pleasantly, but the word got caught in my throat and came out harsher than I'd intended. Peter turned his head to look at me. I had been right about Lucy being asleep.

"'lo," he mumbled, and turned back to the flames. He was in worse spirits than I. Susan simply flashed a smile and nodded at me.

I looked down and kicked a rock softly. It bounced off of one of the logs and landed in the fire, making a small shower of sparks rise up and rain down. This was not going well. "How…" I trailed off. I was going to ask how they were, but that seemed a rather dumb question now, seeing as they didn't know whether their brother was alive or not. I swallowed.

"What?" Susan asked softly.

"I—nothing. I was just wondering how you all were, I guess."

She smiled again, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We're okay as we can be, thank you."

I nodded, now, aware of the charade as well as anyone else. Peter turned his head again, making Lucy's head shift a little on his shoulder. "I'm Peter, and this is Susan, and Lucy."

"I'm Lena," I replied.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, and Susan echoed his words. I shifted on my feet. I really didn't have the time or patience to exchange pleasantries.

But I smiled. "It's nice to meet you all, as well. I would stay longer but I only wanted to introduce myself and let you know that I'm supposed to begin to train you—" I gestured at Peter, "on how to use your sword and other weapons, and you—" I gestured at Susan, "on how to use your bow and arrows."

They did not reply and I wondered if I had said something wrong. Had that sounded too harsh? Or blunt? I swallowed and pushed the thoughts away. Why should I care so much? They should be glad they'd gotten this far alive.

Finally, Susan spoke. "Thank you," she said. "Do you know a lot about weapons?"

"I've been told I'm a natural at it—the whole weaponry thing, I mean—but I wouldn't say I know a lot. It's just that I'm the only other human here, as you can obviously see, and Aslan thought it'd be best if I were the one to teach you."

Peter turned around yet again, and Lucy's head landed in his lap. She stirred but didn't wake, and I marveled at how soundly she slept. "About that," he started, "I thought we were the only humans here, what with the prophecy and all."

I cleared my throat. "Yes, well…mistakes happen, I suppose."

Peter nodded but obviously wasn't satisfied with the answer. I spoke again before he could. "I really ought to go, I have a long day tomorrow—as do you all, for that matter. Have a good night." I turned and walked off towards my tent before they could say anything.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke with a feeling of dread not just in my stomach, but in my entire body. I felt as though I was made of lead as I washed and dressed, and I wondered how I'd make it through the day. Today was the first day that I would teach Peter and Susan how to use their weapons. I wondered if they were looking forward to it.

When I left my tent for the final time, I paused. Aslan was up on the rise with a boy—I had figured that the noise I had heard late last night was his rescue party returning, and I was right. He had dark hair and a sweater and shorts on (I scoffed at the fashion, again) and looked down at the ground as Aslan spoke to him. He finally nodded and started down the rise towards his siblings, who were sitting and eating breakfast, trying not to be obvious about their watching the conversation.

I decided I'd give them some time to meet with their brother and finish breakfast, but just as I was turning to go down to the cliff, a voice called my name.

"Lena!" It was the youngest Pevensie—Lucy—and she was beaming and waving me over. I resisted a groan. She had been asleep last night—why would she of all people want to see me? Nevertheless, I walked towards the group. "Hello!" She said brightly, once I stood in front of them. I noticed Peter and Susan were watching her with faint smiles on their faces. Lucy stuck out her hand for me to shake, and I did so, gingerly. "I'm Lucy Pevensie."

I gave her nothing but a small smile in return. Her enthusiasm seemed to be contagious to the others. "So," Susan began, "you're teaching us today, right?"

"Starting today, yes," I replied. "It will be a long process."

Susan either didn't notice the hidden insult or didn't care. "Well," she said, glancing at Peter and smiling, "I suppose we should start soon—oh," she said looking at her other brother, who had been watching me rather suspiciously throughout the entire conversation, "this is Edmund." He nodded at me and I nodded back. It was understandable that he didn't want to talk much. Not only had he just been chewed out by Aslan, (at least, I assumed it was a chewing out) but he had survived days with only the Witch and her minions as company. Anyone with a mind would be rather quiet after that.

"Do you want breakfast?" Lucy asked this so cheerfully I had to stifle a laugh. She noticed and asked what I was laughing at.

"I—well, you're just so…I dunno, _happy_. Like, all the time."

She looked confused. "Why is that funny?"

I didn't know how to explain this to an eight year old, so I just shook my head. "Nevermind. You two should finish up," I said, gesturing to Peter and Susan, "and I'm going to go ask Aslan something. You can meet me out in the field behind the camp. Bring your weapons, obviously."

"But what about breakfast?" Lucy called after me.

"I appreciate the offer," I shouted back over my shoulder as I walked away, "but I'll eat something later." I continued off to Aslan's tent and cursed the stars the whole way. I hated the Pevensies, I decided, I honestly did. They had no reason to be so happy, aside from their brother being alive, and even then, he was a traitor, which they seemed to ignore. All that they had been through, and yet the most important thing was breakfast? I shook my head. They were going to get killed at this rate.

"Lena," Aslan stepped out of his tent before I got there. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if you wanted me to teach Edmund as well," I said.

Aslan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes," he finally decided, "but ask one of the centaurs to teach Susan, then. Your best point is sword-work, and I don't want you to become overwhelmed. Especially not now, after—"

"Okay," I cut him off. He looked at me, looked _through _me, but I refused to feel guilty for interrupting. He knew what was sensitive and what wasn't. He nodded, and walked off.

I walked back to the Pevensies to alert them of what was happening, and pointed Susan towards one of the centaurs. "Do I really still need to practice?" She asked, and I turned to face her, alarmed. What kind of a question was that? "I mean," she rushed, seeing my expression, "Father Christmas said this bow will always find its mark. So I was thinking that practice wasn't necessary."

"Practice is always necessary," I said lowly. I didn't want to get into a gruesome discussion of _why _it was always necessary, what with an eight year old paying close attention, but Susan seemed to grasp my meaning and nodded.

"You two," I pointed at Peter and Edmund. "Please tell me that you're ready. I don't have all day."

"But don't you?" Peter asked with a slight smirk, and I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it. _Oh_. I did have all day. Great.

"Just come on," I muttered, leading the way to the field. Peter grabbed his sword and shield, and Edmund borrowed a set from one of the centaurs, and they followed me up. "This is going to be a long day," I said to myself, waiting as the sun burned high in the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Training was just as bad as I expected. By the end of the day, both Peter and Edmund were covered in bruises and scrapes, and though they joked about it, I figured they were doing that just for my benefit; they looked like they were in pain. I refused to feel sorry for them. We all had to learn eventually, and learning took time and energy.

They followed me quietly back down to the camp, much more subdued than they were that morning. I glanced back once to make sure they were still there—Edmund seemed to be fighting a scowl, and Peter stared off into space, face burning red when he tripped over a rock. I bit back a laugh. As much as I didn't like them, I didn't want to be that rude now.

Both, however, had shown that they would definitely improve greatly within time. I was almost sure now that we would have a chance to win the inevitable battle, though I doubted Peter's leadership skills. He was, what—sixteen, seventeen at most? Of course, leadership skills don't depend entirely on age—mostly on experience. And although Peter liked to act like he had it all together, I knew he was still just a kid torn up by problems and shredded by pain.

They joined their sisters at their tents, laughing now, surely exaggerating how they had done. I shook my head slowly but fought a smile. I was interrupted out of my thoughts by Aslan slowly walking toward me. "Lena," he said, "how did they do?"

"It was…ah, interesting," I replied. "They really could improve if we keep it up. It's obvious they've never touched a sword or shield in their lives."

"Being from the 40's in England, I do doubt that they have," Aslan joked slightly. As usual, I wondered where he got this infinite amount of information, but I didn't ask.

"But, yes," I steered the conversation back on subject, "I'll keep it up with them."

"Thank you, Lena," Aslan's expression softened a bit. "I know this is hard for you. We appreciate you staying."

I didn't dare to interrupt Aslan again, but winced slightly at his words. I nodded, and he walked off down the path.

I was on my way to my tent when a voice called my name. I turned and saw Peter jogging toward me, and he stopped a couple feet away. "Lena," he said, "I wanted to thank you for today. I know Ed and I aren't very good, but you must understand we've never done this before in our lives—and I know we can get better with some more—"

I held up a hand, frowning. "Don't thank me," I said. "I didn't do this out of choice, you know. I'm just following orders."

"Oh," Peter replied. He said nothing for a moment and I wondered if I had been too harsh.

"But you're right," I added suddenly. He looked up from the ground at me. "You two will get better with time and more practice. I know it's difficult the first couple of times. But you guys are good at it, I can tell. My first time I was no better than you, I could barely lift my sword a foot off the ground." I offered a smile and Peter laughed.

"Well…goodnight, then, I guess," he said, lifting a hand up in farewell. I nodded, and watched as he walked off.

"Peter," I called after a second. He turned a bit eagerly. "You're welcome," I said quietly. He smiled again and nodded.

Later, as I lay in my tent, I cursed myself for what I had said and done. What was that? I had to remember who they were and who I was. I was here to follow orders, not to make friends. I turned to lay on my side and studied a blade of grass, red amongst the fellow green ones. Peter was nice—hell, the whole family was—but that didn't matter. I needed to get my head on straight.


	5. Chapter 5

The days began to pass quickly, and I fell into a routine: wake up, say hello to the Pevensies (one of the centaurs insisted I be at least decent to the future Kings and Queens), breakfast, train, supper, and sleep. Edmund and Peter began to improve, and soon I found myself on the ground with a blade pressed to my neck at least once a day—though they were always quick to help me up afterwards.

Their increasingly annoying politeness was almost funny to me, if it weren't so offensive. I was not a damsel in distress, I could take care of myself, and I most definitely could get myself off the ground. When it happened yet another time, I snapped.

"I don't need your help!" I insisted, ignoring Edmund's outstretched hand and pushing myself up off of the ground. "I only fell to the ground, I'm not dying. And even if I were, I still wouldn't accept _your_ help." I began to walk off, to hell with the fact that the day was only half through. I was done. Someone else could train these _children_ who knew nothing, the entitled little—

Edmund's yell brought me out of my thoughts. "Why do you hate us so much?" he called after me. I turned, fuming, and strode back to the field, standing barely a foot from him.

"Why do I hate you? Why do I hate you? Do you know nothing? Oh, wait, you _do _know nothing," I said, barking a laugh. I knew that I needed to calm down before I said something that I would regret, but I was on a roll. "My family and friends are _gone_. They left because of you. It was because of _you _that people risked their lives, it was because of _you _that I was left here alone, it was because of you—"

"Enough." Peter cut in, eyes fiery. "You need to back off, Lena. We've forgiven Ed, and we don't talk about what happened. I'm not going to let you speak to him—or any of us—like that."

"Let me?" I laughed again, but this time it sounded almost maniacal. "Why not? Because you're all future royalty? You simply can't wait to lord over us, so you're starting now?"

"No," he replied calmly, and his calmness was enough to make another wave of anger roar inside me. "It's because it's rude, and cruel. I don't know where you come from," he stepped closer, "but back home, people aren't deliberately cruel to each other. And if they are, then I don't want to associate with them." He turned to Edmund. "Come on, let's go find the others. I heard there's a river around here somewhere, and it's hot." They both turned and walked off, and I stood there, mouth agape. I didn't know what to say, let alone think. I promptly flopped down onto the grass, flinging my sword next to me. This was ridiculous. They made me so angry, and that made me even angrier. I was in the right, I tried to convince myself. My family and friends _did _leave because of them, though not just Edmund, as I had made it sound. People did risk their lives. I swallowed, not wanting to think about it anymore.

I got up and walked to the cliffs, and sat on the edge, feet dangling. By now the sun was beginning to set; it had been hours since our little fight. My anger had quickly turned to guilt. I shouldn't have yelled at Edmund like that, he was surely scarred from his experience, and I had made him feel even worse about it. I cursed myself for my stupidity, and then cursed my lack of self-control. One needed self-control if one planned to survive long here, otherwise the lack thereof would start many fights, and eventually the anger would cause one to be reckless and get killed. I sighed softly. I was still learning, after all this time.

"Lena?" It was Peter. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and turned my head to look at him, not getting up.

"What?" The word came out nicer than I intended it to, I even sounded defeated. I frowned.

"They caught a dumb beast—a deer, I think—and we're all having a feast. I don't really know what we're celebrating, if we're celebrating anything, that is."

"Your point?"

"Would you come join us?" The question was brutally straightforward, and the kindness startled me. I resolved not to let him guilt-trip me into this.

"Why are you asking me? I yelled at your brother—I would've at least hoped you'd be angry enough with me to not want to see me."

Peter laughed, though I hadn't meant it as a joke. "It's okay," he said. "Ed didn't take it personally, and if he did, he definitely over it by now."

"And you?"

His grin lessened a bit. "I don't want you speaking to my brother, or my sisters, like that. If you want to yell at anyone, feel free to yell at me. I'm not trying to 'lord over you' or anything, Lena. I barely know what I'm doing," he said, the grin fading completely now. "I'm terrified, to be honest. I'm seventeen, I don't know how to run a kingdom, I can barely even do maths that well. And here I am, all of a sudden, told that my family and I fulfill some prophecy and that I'm to be High King. It's overwhelming. I mean, how would you feel if it were you?" He shook his head and scuffed a shoe in the dirt. "I just…I don't know. It's a lot to take in. I'm sorry if I come off as any way that would be offensive."

I was shocked at his honesty. "Yes," I said quietly.

Peter looked confused. "'Yes' what?"

"I'll join you," I replied. "For supper, I mean. Though I don't eat meat. It's kind of difficult for me to, after making friends with so many animals."

Peter grinned. "I understand," he said. He walked over and offered a hand to help me up. I stared at it for a second, contemplating.

Then I took it.


End file.
